


Zucchini Muffins

by Azulet



Series: Friendships [2]
Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: Best Friends, Bromance, Brotp, Commander Root can Bake, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Families of Choice, Foaly/Holly Friendship, Friendship, Gen, Holly and Root and Bros, Holly/Root Friendship, Holly/Trouble Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Muffins, No Romance, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Team as Family, Unconventional Families, Vacation Days, You cook?!, sick day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:54:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azulet/pseuds/Azulet
Summary: Holly takes her first ever day off (because she's sick) and stuff happens. Not super exciting, but I tried to make it somewhat funny/sweet at the same time.





	

“She did what?!”

Commander Root was not having a good day. First he had to deal with drunken gnome, insisting that he “reeeelli neeedit to talk t’you”, and now one of his best officers was calling in sick. “Holly never calls in sick,” muttered Foaly, who had been sent to tell Root the bad news, “And I’m not using that as a figure of speech. I checked her record, and this is the first time she has ever called in sick.”

Holly was, in fact, very ill. She was not the type of officer who took a day off just because Great Aunt Dandelion was in town for the day. It had developed a couple days ago, and she had been able to ignore the headaches and go to work, but when she woke up and promptly passed out, she decided she might have to use some of her accumulated sick days.

She managed to get out of bed and all the way to her kitchen/living room before passing out again. It was really quite annoying, and made it difficult to do anything when you keep flopping over at a moment’s notice. She came to within a few second, her head pounding, something poking her rather violently in the leg. She sat up, discovering the poker was in fact one of her chairs, and finally managed to reach the phone. Bringing it with her so she could sit down, she curled up on the couch, pressing the appropriate button to awaken the device. “How may I help you?” it asked, it’s voice that of Lili Frond, Corporal Bimbo. _You can help me by not being the voice of every single device in this city_ , thought Holly, but instead she said “Please call Police Plaza.” “Dialing!” sing-songed the voice. _Is song-song even a verb?,_ wondered Holly, then, _oh gods, I must be losing it; trying to figure out which verb the voice is_.

“Police Plaza, how can we help you today?” the bored voice of one of the numerous secretaries answered the phone with forced politeness. 

“Hello, yes, this is Captain Short,” she croaked, “I’m calling in sick.”

“Alright, I’ll put you through to Commander Root.”

“No, no just put me on with Foaly.” Holly wasn’t sure she could handle Root’s volume this early in the morning.

“You sure?” the secretary asked dubiously. Foaly was known to be rather paranoid at the best of times, and quite rude at the worst.

“Yeah, just get me through,” Holly grumbled, feeling some of her strength return at the secretary’s impudence. There was a slow beeping sound, the call being put through, and then the centaur picked up. “Hello, under-appreciated genius here, what can I do?” Apparently, when Holly had a bad day, Foaly had a good one.

“Foaly. It’s Holly,” she said, rather unnecessarily.

“Whoa, you sound like you got a stinkworm stuck in your throat.”

“Thanks, Foaly, so helpful.” There was a snort of laughter on the other end of the line. “Listen, I really, really don’t want to, but I think I’m going to have to call in sick,” explained Holly.

“And you want me to tell Commander Root?” guessed the technical advisor.

“Yeah,” sighed Holly, resigned to her day off.

“Okay dokey,” said Foaly, “See you round.” and he hung up.

Most people enjoy their days off. Holly did not. To be fair, she wasn’t feeling up to par, but none the less, all she could do was water her ferns and flip listlessly through the news channels. She wanted to be out there, on assignment, doing something, _helping_. A bit after lunch, she got a call from Trouble, who heard from a grumbling Commander Root that Holly wasn’t feeling well.

“Finally using some of those sick days,” he quipped. Holly was glad of the call; it gave her something to do, and besides, she considered Trouble a friend. At least, friendlier then the other LEP males, who were divided up between hitting on her and disgust that there was a _female_ Captain. They talked about the other officers, Holly asked if anything had happened, and Trouble assured her that no, the LEP wasn’t going to fall apart if she took the day off.

Finally, as the artificial lights of Haven started to power down, Holly resigned herself to a day without excitement, and powered on her phone, preparing to order some dinner from _Salad & Such_, or perhaps even the horrid _Spud’s Spud Emporium_ , but someone knocked at her door. Holly was vaguely surprised, but supposed that Foaly might be stopping by. _Or my neighbors need to borrow some dried nettle again_. Opening the door, she was surprised to find it was neither. Standing uncomfortably in her doorway was _Commander Root_. For a moment, Holly was too startled to speak, finally spluttering “What are you doing here? Commander! What are you doing here, Commander?”

The older elf seemed as startled as her, replying with “Captain Short. I thought – that is…” he trailed off before handing her a small box.

“Um, come in?” tried Holly, gesturing for her superior to enter. He did, looking around at her small apartment. Holly glanced guiltily at the mess, wishing she had time to clean up. Root looked around for a moment before sitting down on Holly’s sofa. The owner of the sofa sat down opposite him on a reclining armchair, the mystery package still clutched in her hands.

 “So, um, what brings you round?” said Holly, making an attempt at casual conversation.

“Well, Foaly told me you called in sick, and Captain Kelp mentioned that he called you, so it seemed I should…check up on you.”

Holly was touched; the Commander didn’t usually let it slip that he cared for his officers.

“Well, thank you sir,” said Holly, “but it was unnecessary, I’m fine.” Root seemed mildly offended, so Holly quickly changed the subject.

“What’s this?” she asked, holding out the box.

“Well, I thought you could do with some decent food, not that stuff at _Spud’s_ , so I, ah, made some muffins.” He said the last bit in a rush, as though embarrassed. Holly could hardly believe her ears; Commander Root cooking? It was almost impossible to imagine. Holly opened the box; there was half a dozen muffins – zucchini, if she had to guess, - neatly tucked into it.

“Anyway,” said Root, “I suppose I should be going now.” He made as if to get up, but before he could, Holly said “Do you want to, you know, have some?” It felt weird, asking her commanding officer if he wanted muffins, but Holly didn’t give in easy. Root seemed to panic for a moment, but then he relaxed and nodded. Holly moved to the couch, placing the muffin box between them.

They sat in comfortable silence for several moments, eating Root’s delicious cooking. _I was right; it is zucchini_. Holly had never spent time with Root outside of work, he was too commander-y to hang out and watch crunchball, or go to the bar, or whatever the officers decided to do after work. But now it was like having a snack with a friend. Over the course of her recon years, Holly had begun to see Root as a sort of father figure. After all, he was the one who had been there for her initiation, who had always pushed her to be the best she could be.

“I really should be going,” said Root, heaving himself off the sofa. Holly nodded, it was getting dark, and lead him to the door. “Again, thank you, Julius,” she said, then realized she had used his first name. “ _Commander_. Thank you, Commander.”

Root gave her something that might be interpreted as a smile, had it been someone else, and said “It’s okay, Holly.” Halfway out the door, he remember to be grumpy, adding “But you’d better be on time tomorrow.” Holly nodded, saying “Of course, sir,” and closed the door, smiling to herself.


End file.
